i live..but there rots air inside..
rancid thoughts,sin,putrid pride..
lust, a deviant..self ,a virgin whore..
with life, am yet to settle score..
i tell death,.get lost..not today..
death..which is a blow to the eternal pride..
there are still games with life i must play
still mockeries upon which i must deride
who are you imploring my return
an absence..that i must believe in turn
a non entity..that dares question me
there is sufferance i haven’t shown/seen